Submission Is Not My Style - Chapter 65: Chapter 65

Normally, it takes a solid four damn hours to reach the Alpha King’s palace—even at full speed. But today, somehow, my wolf, who's been whining and cursing me out since the second we left the Red Night Pack, managed to shave it down to three.
Three hours.
It’s insane.
Three relentless hours of tearing through forests, leaping over rivers, crashing past startled wildlife, and ignoring every bone-deep warning my body tries to send me.
Not that I’m complaining.
I’m a man in love. The sooner I get this ridiculous “fine” sorted for taking down a corrupt power structure to protect Kali, the sooner I can get back to her—back to where I belong.
But I won’t lie—every mile I put between us gnaws at me. I hate this distance.
And I regret not marking her.
Deeply.
Without that mark, I have no way of knowing where she is, if she’s okay, or if she even made it safely to Blood Fang with her mom. No connection. No bond.
Sure, Fury and a few warriors are with them for protection, but even the natural link between Fury and me is starting to fade with the distance. And without the mate bond... I’m completely in the dark.
If I’d just marked her, we’d be connected—heart, soul, mind. But something about marking her in the middle of that cursed territory didn’t feel right. Sacred things deserve sacred moments.
Still... the regret claws at my chest.
By the time we reach the tall hedges shielding the rear of the palace grounds, my wolf is practically foaming at the mouth with frustration, snarling in my head like he wants to tear me apart from the inside out.
My muscles scream, my skin burns from the sudden shift, but I push through the pain. I grab the spare clothes we always keep hidden and throw them on, brushing the dirt from my pants before that damn mutt starts complaining again.
“This is all your fault,” he growls for what has to be the hundredth time, pacing in my mind. “You should’ve marked mate—even if we didn’t mate her—then at least I’d be at peace. I could talk to her. Feel her.”
I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair. “We will mark her,” I murmur. “Once we return home. And then we’ll make love to her. Properly. In our bed. With candles and everything. Romantic as hell.”
That earns a bark of disbelief, like I just said we’d be dancing under the moonlight to love songs.
“Since when do you do romantic shit?”
I smirk, adjusting my collar. “Since I fell in love with Kali.”
He makes a gagging sound so loud it echoes in my skull. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t act like you’re not whipped too.”
“Tch.” He doesn’t answer, and I take the chance to cut the link between us before he can start nagging again.
By the time I step into the palace courtyard, the scent of burning incense assaults my nose. The air shifts—thick with power, royalty, and something older than time. But I don’t flinch.
Never have.
I march through the front entrance like I own the place. The guards straighten, eyes wide in surprise as I pass. Clearly, they weren’t expecting me.
Weird.
I push the thought aside. The palace is massive—built to intimidate. And yeah—it probably works on most.
But not me.
I walk tall, my steps echoing with authority, radiating the Alpha energy I was born with.
Then I enter the grand hall—and immediately stop cold.
The raised platform at the far end, the one with the three thrones—especially the central one, made of black iron and carved with moons and wolves—is empty.
That’s the Alpha King’s throne.
He’s always there.
That’s where he spends most of his days—holding court, hearing petitions, and issuing orders. I’ve never come here without finding him seated like a god among mortals. His absence feels wrong… like a sword without its blade.
Where the hell is he?
I frown just as a footstep behind me makes me spin. A palace guard steps forward and offers a slight bow. “The Alpha King is in his personal chambers, Alpha Jack. He’s resting… and not receiving anyone at the moment.”
What?
I blink, then scoff, temper flaring. “What the fuck are you talking about? He summoned me. He asked me to come.”
The guard blinks like I’ve just grown horns. “I… I wasn’t informed—”
I don’t wait for him to finish as I storm past him, following the strongest scent in the palace—the Alpha King’s. It’s sharp, deep, and ancient. Easy to trace. I hear guards yelling behind me, trying to catch up, warning me off, but I ignore every damn one of them.
“The Alpha King isn’t in the mood—”
I shove open a thick, arched door carved with runes and symbols of the old bloodlines—his office.
And step inside.
What I see brings me to a standstill.
The Alpha King sits in a massive chair behind his desk, shoulders hunched forward like the weight of the world finally crushed him into that chair and forced him to bow. He looks… tired.
No, more than that.
He doesn’t look like himself.
The usual aura of untouchable power—the kind that feels immortal, invincible—is dulled. He’s always been the Unshakable One, a titan among men. But now? His face is shadowed, the lines deeper than I remember. For the first time in my life, he doesn’t radiate indomitable strength.
He looks aged.
His shoulders, broad and powerful, slump under a weight I don’t understand. His eyes, sharp and emerald, don’t carry their usual fire.
He doesn’t just look tired.
He looks worn. Ageing.
I swallow hard. The Alpha King doesn’t do tired. He doesn’t do old.
His gaze meets mine, and I swear, a flicker of surprise crosses his face. It flashes so fast I almost miss it—but it was there.
He wasn’t expecting me but that’s not what shakes me the most.
It’s his eyes.
Those piercing emerald eyes that suddenly feel like a memory crawling through my brain, trying to resurface. Where have I seen them?
They’re so… familiar.
And then—like a bolt of lightning—Kali’s face rushes to the front of my mind.
Her eyes.
Those same eyes.
No.
I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head.
I must be losing it. Missing her so badly, I’m seeing her in the Alpha King now. Imagining her reflection in the eyes of the most feared man in the realm.
It’s absurd. Impossible.
But still...
The feeling won't go away.
Then his voice slices through the fog of my thoughts.
"Why are you here?" he asks, arching a tired brow, but there’s a steel edge under his tone. "I didn’t call for you… or are you here to finally accept my proposal and marry my daughter?"
My jaw ticks.
Here we go again.
He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach, eyes gleaming with the faintest hint of amusement. "I mean, come on. No one in their right mind would pass up a golden opportunity to become the next Alpha King…"
I scoff, the bitter sound leaving my throat before I can stop it.
“Cut the crap. You sent a letter,” I snap. “A letter that reached me in the Red Night territory. Said I was being fined for taking over the pack. That I violated treaty law and had to report here immediately or face harsher consequences. That’s why I’m here.”
He blinks.
Frowns.
Then slowly, very slowly, shakes his head. “What?”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t act confused. You said I violated peace between packs and that you were issuing punishment—”
“I didn’t send any fucking letter,” he growls suddenly, rising to his feet. The force of his aura expands, crackling through the room like a coming storm. “Why the hell would I send you a letter at the Red Night when your territory is Blood Fang? And you know I don’t meddle in pack wars and politics unless innocent pack members are dying.”
His emerald eyes blaze with authority—but behind them, there’s something else.
Confusion.
Genuine confusion.
And that sends a warning bell screaming in my head and sets my nerves on fire.
I reach into my jacket, fingers curling around the crisp parchment Fury had handed me before I left. I toss the letter on his desk like it’s a cursed artifact.
“Then explain that.”
He snatches it up.
The moment his eyes drop to the seal, something changes. The color drains from his face.
His thumb brushes the thick red wax—his royal crest embedded perfectly in the center. There’s no mistaking it. No forgery could mimic that exact mark. The damn thing even pulses faintly with residual magic.
His lips part, then shut again.
When he finally speaks, his voice is tight. Cold.
“This isn’t from me…” he murmurs, staring at the letter like it might explode. “I never wrote this. I never ordered any letter to be sent to you. Whoever impersonated me committed high treason… That’s a crime punishable by death.”
Something clicks.
One name barrels into my head like a train.
I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “My uncle…”